


Running From Lions

by Katastrophi, Meeps



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: A/B/O, Abuse, Alpha!Peter, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Broken Bones, Explicit Sex, Identity Reveal, Infertility, Knotting, M/M, Manipulation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omegaverse, Past Abuse, RP to Fic, baby's first rut, dubcon elements, etc etc etc, forced training, mentioned dubcon/noncon, mentioned torture, mentions of mpreg, omega!Wade, pwp with actual plot like wtf
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-04-27
Packaged: 2018-05-30 07:16:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6414187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katastrophi/pseuds/Katastrophi, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meeps/pseuds/Meeps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter Parker grew up thinking he was a Beta all his life, but after saving an Omega, a man he's only met a few times before... maybe it's time to rethink that.  What starts off as a very awkward meeting, Spider-Man and Deadpool get closer and more intimate than they ever thought they would.  But can they work out some kind of relationship afterward?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Boyfriend and I wanted to write filthy porn, and... though it started started off as a PWP, suddenly plot happened and it kind of got away from us. Oops. It's now well over a hundred and fifty pages, and we're finally getting around to cleaning it up to post it. It's not even close to being done yet, either. Strap in your seat-belts, 'cause here comes a ride!

Boring, plain ol' Peter Parker had never been anything special. Well, no, that wasn't entirely true; he was a very gifted child, but perfect marks in math and science were about as far as he got towards _being_ special. Eventually, he grew to an age where he needed to actively study to keep his grades up, and that only dragged down his already mediocre level of noteworthiness. Other things that had clued him in on being painfully ordinary were that, well... puberty hadn't done much for him. His glasses were still too big for his face, he grew two inches at best, and now his voice cracked. He was never good at sports, he wasn't popular, and anyone he'd made friends with in middle school, or even before that, seemed to think that Flash Thompson was a better person to hang out with than him. It hurt, but there wasn't a lot that could be done about it.

Then again, Flash was an _Alpha_ , so it shouldn't have come as a surprise that he was flocked to. Didn't stop the sting, though.

All of that changed for Peter when he was bitten by a radioactive spider and had his DNA atoms switched around like they were playing an make-or-break game of Red Rover. It wasn't _entirely_ overnight, but Peter changed then.

His aunt, uncle, distant relatives, and everyone he knew on any personal level were all Betas, and though he’d never known much about his parents, he was pretty sure they were as well (especially since Ben and May had never said differently). But now he was more than just boring, plain ol’ Beta Peter Parker -- he was a _superhero_ . A superhuman superhero at that! Unfortunately for him, a lot of villains he'd fought were Alphas, and boy did they _act it_ . Peter was actually worried that word would get around that he _wasn't_ an Alpha, and that he'd be mocked for it -- or _worse_.

At least behind the safety of his costume he could play the part of the cocky, sarcastic little shithead he always secretly wanted to be out of costume, but was too scared of the consequences.

As he was swinging through the city on patrol, Spider-Man noticed that there was some... odd activity going on. It seemed like there were more people out skulking suspiciously around than usual, and there were definitely more random brawls and fights breaking out. At first, he worried that someone had possibly been releasing biological warfare on the unsuspecting city, and he briefly entertained the idea that it could be widespread mind control that was causing it, but after more time observing, he realized that it seemed to only be Alphas (both male and female) causing any real trouble. He landed atop the ledge of a building and frowned deeply from where he sat, elbows propped up on his knees. Something about this wasn't right. Was it possible that someone had been dropping chemical bombs full of hormones to agitate nearby Alphas? That was certainly a threat to public safety, because he'd heard more than enough horror stories about what happened when they went lust crazy. But who, and _why_ ? He'd already had to fight off several Alphas who had thought it was a good idea to bring out freaking _guns_ on their fellows, as well as Shocker (and screw that guy). He was suffering a few broken ribs from that _oh so enjoyable_ meet and greet, and he wanted to just go home and sleep for the next day and a half, even though he knew he couldn't. It was his duty to figure out what was going on and to stop it before anything worse happened.

After following an iffy trail, he finally came to an alleyway that was covered in blood and what looked like pieces of bone and tissue (which were now breeding grounds for flies -- he had to remove himself from the spot entirely to keep from gagging) and he could smell the distinct mix of rotting corpse and... something else that hung in the air just as thick that he didn’t have a name for. Spider-Man covered his nose, afraid that whatever was affecting a good chunk of the surrounding blocks would get to him, too, despite being who (and what) he was. He was pretty damn concerned about who’d gotten murdered in this alley, because it was obvious someone _had_ ... but this seemed to also be the scene of whatever it was that had _started_ this Alpha mess, and he moved quickly, jumping into the air and shooting his webbing to take him somewhere, _anywhere_ but there. It scared him that for a few seconds he could feel that he wasn't quite himself. Whatever chemical was causing this outbreak was strong enough at its source to affect even _Betas_.

It looked like he was heading in the right direction, because the clusters of what seemed to be _territorial_ fighting were getting more and more frequent. Keeping a hand pressed against his nose and mouth, since the filter on his suit was obviously doing him no good here, he finally came to find a lone Alpha stumbling around -- but this guy wasn't targeting anyone (despite that he had several followers lagging behind him). He actually seemed to be hurt? Or drunk. Or hurt _and_ drunk.

Spider-Man crept along the side of the building he'd landed on, wincing only briefly as his broken bones audibly cracked in and out of place, and he shouted breathlessly down at the guy. "Hey, buddy!"  He also sounded like he had a cold on top of being so winded, since he was still holding his nose just in case. "Any idea what the hell's going on?"

Wade Wilson was an anomaly, and _that_ was putting it _mildly_ . He was tall, broad-shouldered, and knew how to intimidate anyone in the room with single a glance. He _had_ to be that way to make sure no one ever got too close. But after years of fighting it, the mercenary had to at least admit it to himself -- he was only an Omega, the bottomfeeder of the food chain. He wasn’t _just_ an Omega either; he was a hyper-scented, _barren_ Omega. He was worthless to a proper Alpha, and a trophy to every sleaze king that sniffed at him.

Having a healing factor was also a bitch and a half, because he had to constantly inject himself with the suppressant serum for it to even have a slight effect with his body constantly fighting it off. He always smelled like an Omega now no matter what he did, he just didn't give off mating pheromones -- as far as he could tell, anyway. Well, that _was_ the case until he'd gotten shot in the fucking head and left dead in an alleyway for God only knew how long. Now he could even smell _himself_ and that meant it was pretty damn bad. He just had to focus, had to make it back to the warehouse he’d been squatting in... He absolutely _could not_ go into heat in the middle of the city, at the middle of the night, when any respectable human being was already in bed, asleep. Of course he'd survive whatever happened to him if that came to pass, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to handle it mentally. Alphas were always a little crazy when consumed by their lust, and he himself already wasn’t far from the edge -- well, honestly, he’d long since jumped off it. He just wasn’t looking forward to the impact at the bottom.

Wade could distantly hear someone yelling near him (or was it _at_ him?). That voice sounded familiar, even through his hazy mind. Looking up over his shoulder, he saw the saturated red and blue of the New York’s very own human arachnid, and he was startled but not willing to show it. He rubbed a shaky hand over his face, realizing then he didn't have his mask -- no, that had been left behind where he’d woken up, too shredded from bullets to be of any use even if it was able to stay on his head at all. He knew he must’ve looked like some sentient, molding potato covered in eyespots more than he did a human being. With the smell of rot that stuck to his clothes paired with his Omega stink, he had to be a _real_ winner walking around like he was.

"Hey, Spidey-butt. S'long time no see. I actually don't know shit of what's been goin' on lately. Some A.I.M. asshole got a quick shot on me an' left my body in a metaphorical ditch. I'm just… you know, tryin' to get home, but I feel real… not okay." Wade's voice had started out relatively bold and typical of their usual interactions, but as his thoughts seemed to drift, his voice grew meek with it. He lived with chronic pain; he could deal with pins-and-needles, and with the typical burning ache, but this -- this was completely different. He felt like his very body was seconds away from being ripped clean apart. "I just wanna go home," he said desperately, and even he could hear how pathetic that sounded.

Spider-Man knew well enough to stay at a safe distance to avoid being attacked by staying halfway up the building, and he had more than enough strength to fend for himself when it came to regular humans, no matter how doped up on adrenaline they may be. But when the person turned to look at him, Spider-Man felt the gut-wrenching urge to recoil. This man looked like he'd had the ever-loving _shit_ beaten out of him, most likely by a garbage disposal or a lawn-mower. Or maybe even both of those things teamed up. And then mauled by a bear.

But when the stranger started talking, calling him an oh-so loving nickname he'd _definitely_ heard before... " _Deadpool_ ?" Spider-Man asked, incredulous. He'd actually dropped his hand for a second out of complete shock, but upon inhaling, he quickly covered the bottom part of his face again. It was just as strong as the alley had been, if not _more_.

Wade nodded too eagerly in response, trying to get the restlessness out of him. He felt feverish. (Could he even _get_ a fever with his healing factor?) "Hi, I'm Deadpool. The friendly neighborhood Merc with the Mouth." His voice shook as he said this, but now there was no doubt left in Spider-Man’s mind that this was, in fact, Deadpool -- whether he sounded like his usual self or not. A large part of Peter was entirely _too_ relieved that the crime scene back there was explained as _just being Deadpool_ , because the man was notorious for not staying down for long. But still, whoever killed him in the first place was a danger to the city, especially if they were tied with A.I.M.. Peter knew he’d have to grill the mutate about that, but _later_. A.I.M. usually dealt in technologies, but they could easily be what was behind tonight's problem.

Boy did Deadpool look the part of feeling 'not okay'. "Do you, uh... need help getting home?" he asked awkwardly, trying to only to breathe when he absolutely needed to. It was like the mercenary had been _doused_ in whatever it was that was setting a good chunk of the upper North Side off. Of _course_ it had to do with Deadpool (everything bad seemed to) -- but the guy not only looked like shit, he sounded like shit, too. He didn't even sound like Deadpool at all near the end of his infamous rambling. No, he sounded _frightened_ , and tired, and not at all his usual self. Spider-Man might not have been friends with the guy, but this felt wrong to just leave alone. Yet on the other hand... he was worried what would happen if the other accepted his help. Peter could feel his heart stutter, and a strange sensation rush through him at the very idea.

The Merc cut off his thoughts. "I promise, Spidey, I ain't got a clue why people are actin' crazy. I just know I fuckin' smell terrible, like a fuckin' Omega bitch, and I just want to go back to my hole. Would you really mind givin' me a lift? I can pay to get your suit dry-cleaned. I know you don't want my stink all up on ya." Spider-Man was a good person. They had never talked about anything too personal, but clearly the Super wasn't some headstrong Alpha if he wasn't chomping at the bit to get at Wade yet. Hell, he'd never even stopped to think of the possibility of any of the superheroes having to deal with this shit from him in the first place.

" _Please_?"

Peter felt like his stomach had a trap door at the bottom of it, and that his bundled nerves just dropped right through it. Deadpool smelled like an _Omega_ ? Part of him didn't want to know why, and the other part of him wondered if that's what some A.I.M. agent did to his body after he'd been shot, effectively setting a ticking time bomb to go off that had then triggered blind lust in any nearby Alphas. Deadpool might not have been the only person that had been doused in pheromones, and Spider-Man was certain this was going to be a problem he, and possibly some of the Avengers, would need to clean up. (If they even _could_. He was pretty sure Tony Stark had decent air filters on his suits.)

But if getting Deadpool off of the street meant less shit that he had to deal with, then so be it. He would gladly accept the dry-cleaning payback, even if he didn't actually get his suit dry-cleaned.  (Though it looked like he was going to need to wash it multiple times just to be able to wear it again -- at least he could use the money to buy food.) He sighed into his palm. He was _Spider-Man_ and he _had_ to be able to control himself enough to do what was best for the city -- but _damn_ they got Deadpool good if he was even affecting _Betas_.

He sucked in and held his breath, now using both hands to help him get down onto the street. His ribs were killing him and they made it so that he wasn’t able to breathe very deeply, and he was left trying to fight the need to pant quick and shallow. At least his lungs were both still in-tact -- it was just painful, and the broken bones were definitely _pushing_ on said lungs. They needed to be set soon or they weren’t going to heal right.

"Yeah, climb on," he said, and his voice was strained. He was quick to add, "And watch the left side; Shocker did a number on my ribs." His current position looked exactly like he was up against the wall, about to be patted down by a police officer before being cuffed.

“Shit," Wade slurred in response, stepping closer to the superhuman. He didn't want to hurt Spidey any worse than he was. Contrary to popular belief, Wade wasn't incredibly fond of hurting people who didn't already deserve it. Shitty people working for Hydra or some other organization? Fuck them, they knew what they were getting themselves into when they penned their name on the contract. Innocent people and anyone actively trying to do good? Not so much.

But the closer Wade got to Spider-Man, the more his stomach clenched and churned. He whimpered under his breath, surprised at how strongly the costume-clad man absolutely _reeked_ of Alpha. It was _delicious_. He rubbed over his own face, still completely disgusted with himself but too far gone to really care about that. "I-if you're hurt, I don't wanna make it worse. If you just, you know, follow me, I can take a look at it an' fix you up? I just need to get my suppressants."

Deadpool sure was acting _exponentially_ weird, even for him, and Spider-Man was almost about to pull the 'Skrull card', but tonight had been just about every direction of absurd already. The back of his neck felt hotter the closer the other man got to him, and he had to swallow around a thick knot that formed in his throat. The hormones that were on Deadpool were really getting to him, and he had absolutely no idea how to deal with it -- especially when the Merc _whimpered_. A shudder ran up Spider-Man's spine like a bolt of electricity.

 _Suppressants?_ As far as he knew, most Alphas didn't bother with that stuff, since the Omegas were the ones who made sure to be diligent in taking them.  

...Wait.

"You're... you're an _Alpha_ , aren't you?" he asked, and his mask hid the look on his face (thankfully), even though his voice wavered slightly, giving his discomfort away.

"Can you not _smell_ properly?" Wade arched his hairless eyebrows in reply, but he kept at a respectful arm's length away from Spider-Man, even if it only tied up his stomach worse. He was trembling like a leaf in autumn, the heady Alpha scent hitting him hard. _Fuck_ , was he seriously going into heat over _Spider-Man_ ? Could he even take his suppressants if he was actively in a heat? Was _this_ an active heat? Wade's head was absolutely swimming. He hadn't felt like this since he was locked away at the Hospice.

"I'm an Omega, kid,” he mumbled. “S'not my first choice, but, well, what about me really is? _You're_ an _Alpha_ , how do you not know what I am?"

Okay, Spider-Man was officially going to start demanding someone pay him some sort of allowance for tonight. This was just too much to do for free. Deadpool was an _Omega_? If he were able to, Spider-Man would have just thrown his hands up and said he was out, he was done, he was going home.

"I'm _not_ an _Alpha_ ," he said with determination. His emotional response to this information was just a tiny bit stronger than his urge to do... whatever else. "I'm a _Beta_ ." He didn’t even _look_ like an Alpha. He was lanky, plucky, Peter 'Puny' Parker. He'd never had the urge to go after an Omega in his life! Something was just really bizarre about this situation, and he knew it wasn't just affecting him, but that still didn't make him an _Alpha_! Whatever Wade was thinking, he was dead wrong.

The Merc shrugged helplessly. "I don't got a nose on me like Wolvie, but you sure _smell_ like an Alpha, Spidey." Wade dipped forward slightly, able to clearly smell the vigilante's natural scent from his pulse point. He would be permanently dead and six feet under before he ever admitted to feeling a slight dribble of slick run down his thigh in response. "Nah, you-you're definitely an Alpha, Spidey. You smell _godly_."

Spider-Man flipped around and backed up, pressing himself hard against the wall.  It hurt like hell because it forced his ribs at an angle and he hissed. But Deadpool was getting right in his personal space, and it was doing something intense to him. His heart was racing a marathon, and it had already been doing that before Wade dropped that revelation on him. "But-but I'm not," Spider-Man said a little desperately. "I've never -- I've never--"

He couldn't find the words, because he just got a lungful of something that made his mouth water. He shook his head hard, trying to clear it. "My family are all Betas," he said, trying to keep a firm grasp on the English language, because if he at least had that, then he still had his brain.

He knew that sometimes Omegas could attract Betas, and that had to be what this was. But then, why on Earth was Deadpool coming onto him so strong? So convinced he wasn't what he knew he was? "There's just no way..." There was also no way this was happening. There was absolutely _no way_ that Deadpool was an _Omega_ of all things, and that he himself was anything but average and boring. He didn't have the personality type or naturally large build. ...But there was a growing part of him that wanted to jump Deadpool right then and there, and it made his hands tremble slightly.

"Just-just get on my back and I'll take you to your warehouse or whatever, and then _I'm leaving_ ," he said in an agitated rush, trying to keep his palms stuck to the wall.

Wade nodded. Normally, he would argue against hurting Peter since he admitted to his ribs being fucked up, but there was something instinctual about an Omega listening to the Alpha in charge. The authoritative voice Spider-Man was putting on made Wade's stomach curl pleasantly. He backed away from Peter a little, giving him the proper space.

"I'm real sorry about puttin' you in this situation, Spidey. I'm always real good about taking my suppressants... I just, well, I'm not typically _dead_ that long." Wade's head was lowered, his entire demeanor obedient to the man in front of him. He wasn't exactly a traditionalist, but he had definitely gotten the rules beaten into him enough. The Omega absolutely must obey the Alpha taking care of them, no matter what. It was a gift to not be thrown to the wolves.

The way Deadpool caved for him, and suddenly became so submissive in every sense of the word... Peter swallowed thickly, and he tried to breathe away the sensation in his chest. But breathing made said chest stab right into one of his lungs, and also he could _smell_ Deadpool, and oh God, Deadpool really was an Omega. But was Peter actually an Alpha? Was that why some criminals just gave up when he told them to, out of instinct to listen and obey? But he'd never...

Peter was never used to people being _submissive_ for him. It wasn't _right_ , but at the same time, Deadpool doing it _felt_ right (even though it felt horribly, horribly wrong at the same time).

Trembling, Spider-Man turned around again, presenting his back for the other. All he had to do was... was get Deadpool anywhere that wasn't the streets, and...

And his Spidey Sense went off like a car alarm. He whipped around, and saw someone approaching them who looked like he could give Dragonball Z's Brolly a run for his money. Nothing good could come from this. "Get on my back," he hissed.

Wade did exactly as he was told as fast as he could, climbing on Peter's back with a sense of grace that his bulky body shouldn't have been allowed to accomplish in this state. The older man whimpered again when his thighs were forced to spread so that he could hook his legs around Spider-Man's hips. He fucking hated his own scent. It made him want to rip and tear at his own skin but now was not the time or the place, and he knew he would get yelled at if he didn’t do as he was told.

Wade kept his head down, refusing to look at the other Alpha that was approaching them at an uncomfortable pace. That guy smelled disgusting compared to Spider-Man -- he reeked like he had several broken bonds. Wade swallowed thickly, hiding his face in Spider-Man's frame. It was truly an irrational fear, but the Omega didn't want to get passed off to this other Alpha. He didn't want to be some gross man's ugly trophy.

As soon as Deadpool securely was on his back, Spider-Man started up the wall, no matter how much his ribcage screamed in protest, and only stopped once they were up on the roof. The man left alone on the street shouted up at him, and Spider-Man aimed the most intense glare at him he could muster, even though his mask was in the way. At least his mask could be intimidating on its own.

He knew that the people following Deadpool's trail wanted to take him and mark him, and it made Spider-Man actually _angry_ . It was painfully obvious that Deadpool wanted nothing to do with anyone coming after him, and just wanted to get home -- or at least to a safe place. That was somewhere around the thought where Spider-Man came to register reality around him, and that he was already swinging, heading right for his own apartment. Shit. _Shit_. He had lost himself for a moment, and he cut the web he was holding onto, and grabbed the closest streetlamp he could.

The adrenaline running through him was making his pain level drastically decrease, which was nice and all, but it was messing with his head. "Uh, where... where's your... place?" he asked stupidly, and he gripped the metal beneath his gloved hands so hard it actually caved inward. God, Deadpool was clinging so hard to him, and his arms were right up against his throat. He could smell the very blood running in the other man's veins, and everything that came with it. Another shiver ran through him. What the hell was _wrong_ with him? It smelled like Deadpool was literally begging Spider-Man to throw him down and do what he would with him.

Wade pulled himself out of his almost catatonic state at the direct question. Please your Alpha. Make sure they know you’re thankful. He swallowed thickly, glancing around uselessly. "I-I... I don't know where we are, Sir. My supplies are in a corner street warehouse in Brooklyn but… it’s... S'too late now..."

It was far too late to keep denying that he was fully going into heat. After years of being on the suppressants, this one was like a nuclear bomb on a small island. He couldn't shake the fever or clammy feeling to his skin. His mind was fuzzy around the edges like he'd gotten repeatedly shot with horse tranquilizers. "A-anywhere is fine. I'm so sorry. A hotel or something... I-I... just four walls an' a lock. Please. I have money."

Spider-Man smelled so welcoming and delectable. It took everything in Wade's conscious mind to not nuzzle his face into the other's pulse just to breathe in his scent. Spider-Man wasn't _his_ Alpha. He didn't give a flying fuck about Deadpool, and Wade had no right to think anything else. This transportation was a charity that he didn't really deserve. He groaned quietly, his abdominal muscles practically twitching in anticipation.

Even through his own quickly fogging mind, Spider-Man had the sense to think about the safety of his identity. No, he couldn't accept any hotel or motel they came across, not while he was in costume, and he wasn't about to strip out of it out in public when he could barely even get a full coherent thought out. His skin felt like it was on fire, and so did the front of his chest and his face. Where Deadpool's body touched him, he could swear it was like scalding water being poured on him.

Spider-Man cursed under his breath, and he took off swinging again. He knew how to get to his apartment, and it wasn't too far off. It seemed to be the only real option. They were halfway to Queens already and he'd gotten a place near enough his aunt's. Before he could focus on much of anything, he was already climbing into the window to his bedroom, which was facing a lovely view of the solid brick wall of the neighboring apartment building. He stood up straight and shrugged Deadpool off of his back and whirled around to slam his window shut. No one was allowed to smell Deadpool or even hear his voice. He felt the wood splinter on the ledge under the force and he would worry about his security deposit later.

He turned and slid down the window frame, down all the way to the floor, and he was shaking all over. "What the hell are you doing to me?" he panted, and it was so hard to breathe with his injuries and his mask on that he went straight past common sense and ripped the damn thing away and threw it across the room. He needed out of his costume, and he needed Deadpool out of his clothes. Peter shook his head hard, trying to get this damn need for dominance to go away. He was so hard right now, and he didn't even know when he'd _gotten_ hard, but Deadpool smelled like slick (how did he even know that?), which meant he was more than ready. Deadpool was hormonally begging for it, and that's all he could think about.

Wade had only stumbled when he was thrown off of Spider-Man's back, and he leaned against the far wall, a far away from his savior as he could get. He curled into a tight ball, burying his face in his arms. _He hated this_. It was honest to god fucking painful to be in heat for the first time in years, and so damn close to an Alpha. He couldn't ask Peter to be his heat mate. He couldn't taint Spider-Man with his own disgusting urges.

"I-I'm so so sorry." Wade's voice was muffled and broken, scared that Spider-Man was going to lash out at him. The worst part about a healing factor is that you always heal, even when you don't want to. "H-heats hurt when you don't got a mate. I-I... it's not my fault. I'm so sorry, Sir."

And Deadpool kept calling him that, _'sir'_ , and for some reason that made Peter angry. Who had taught Deadpool to speak like that? His fist hit the wall behind him and he could hear the window rattle, and some of the wall plaster (and paint) flaked off onto the rain-stained carpet. Wade flinched at the sound. It was beyond common for unmated Alphas to get angry and roughhouse anything or anyone they could get their hands on... but not all of them had inhuman stamina or super strength.

Peter wasn't sure if Deadpool meant they were _both_ hurting, or if it was just _Spider-Man_ hurting, and that Deadpool was scared over it. But the fact that Deadpool was acting this way at all was so off-putting because he was supposed to be _loud_ , and _unapologetic_ , and _annoying_ . Not this whimpering, wibbly mess. And he, Spider-Man, wasn't supposed to be at the mercy of his own body. When the hell had he even _become_ an Alpha? Was it possible that it had happened after his DNA was altered? Or was he always this way and just never grew to look or act like one?

The situation at current was that both of them were on opposite ends of the dinky little room with the single lightbulb that hardly did enough to keep the place above the level of ‘dismally dim'.

"So what... are we supposed to do now?" Peter asked, and he hated himself for the groan he said that in. Would this... this stop if they...?

"Sh-should of left me outside. I didn't know you were an Alpha when I first asked fo-for help. I-it fucking hurts... I-I..." Wade was babbling. He didn't want to put Peter through this. The kid apparently hadn’t even know he was an Alpha to begin with, but now he was going into a rut to match Wade's heat. This was a disaster. This was Peter's first rut. He wasn't going to be able to stay lucid much longer.

"You got options..." Wade spoke slowly, his throat feeling raw. He had to pause every few words to make sure his voice didn't slur. It was hard to keep his thoughts linear. "I can-can leave an' maybe your rut will stop if it ain't completely se-set in yet... o-or lock me in a closet or somethin'. It will uh, help you get that Alpha need to have an Omega at your mercy of-off your mind."

Peter could barely even hear Deadpool speaking. It was like he was trying to listen through a wind tunnel, or from underneath the ocean's surface during a storm. From what he could understand, though, there was no way in _hell_ he was throwing Deadpool out. He felt upset at the very thought of it. Throw Deadpool out to let anyone snatch him up? Peter grit his teeth. "No!" he snapped in response. And he wasn't about to toss Deadpool into his fucking closet.

Wade burrowed deeper into himself as he neared the end of his list of solutions. "O-or... you could have me. Take what you-you want." Omega didn't get the choice. They didn't control the mating process and very rarely had any say in it at all.

Peter stared up at his ceiling, trying to calm himself down. Big surprise -- it wasn't working. He could smell Deadpool's slick from where he was and he was pretty sure everyone for fucking _miles_ could smell the pheromones given off from the mercenary’s heat. That was definitely what was happening out there, out when he'd found the guy stumbling about. No wonder every Alpha within blocks were trying desperately to find Deadpool... and Peter was the lucky one who had found him.

He opened his mouth, and he tried to form the words. "Come here," he said hoarsely. His hands lifted up, reaching for the other Super, his entire arms trembling and his fingers twitching like he was being electrocuted. He was obviously too far gone to do much else.

Wade could hear the tone in Spider-Man's voice. This was dead serious. The Omega couldn't disobey a direct order, not that he even particularly wanted to. Spider-Man had never been anything less than professional and kind to him throughout this horrific mess. If that meant fulfilling a few of the superhero's less… conventional desires, he could handle that just fine.

Wade crawled forward, honestly unsure if he could properly walk at the moment. The other man's smell was almost like a thick, heavy blanket that settled around him as he fumbled the last few feet. Wade moved until he could press his face against Peter's open palm, nuzzling it almost like a kitten starved for attention. He could be good for the other man as long as he was given the chance. "I'll be good, Sir. I promise. I... I know what to do."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sex is had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meeps, very unfortunately, has had her internet shut off and cannot afford to pay the bill, so updates will be a bit on the iffy side. :| And yes, that was me typing in third person. Updates should happen once a week if we're all very lucky (which I hope we are).

Peter gasped when Deadpool came into contact with him. His skin was burning all over, and his fingers, of their own accord, curled against Deadpool's face, like he was trying to grab hold of something, _anything_ to keep himself grounded. He ducked his head and panted roughly, his shoulders heaving. Before he registered it, he had pulled the Merc closer, had his arms wrapped around the other man's broad shoulders, holding him tight, nails digging in even through his gloves. His web-shooters pressed awkwardly into his tendons, and he ripped the fabric off, tossing the damn things into any random direction. Deadpool was his and he wanted to touch him without anything in the way. God, that smell made him high; high enough to float, high enough to know nothing besides what he touched.

The older man moaned low in the back of his throat, his entire body hypersensitive and trembling under the weight on him. He had never actually been with someone during any of his heats -- they had always been chemically induced for experimental purposes before.

Proper thought was pushed out of the Omega's brain, a whine bubbling past his lips. He couldn't initiate anything; it had to be Peter claiming what he wanted. His own digits twitched, gripping onto the costume's thin material. He tried to make himself as small and submissive as possible, and the fire burning in his stomach threatening to engulf him. He flinched, not wanting to displease his Alpha. "S-sir, _please_..."

Please _what_?

Peter just held on for almost a minute, muscles spasming all the while. This wasn't helping him at all, it just felt more and more like a thread inside of him was about to break under the weight being put on it. He breathed against Deadpool's ear, and listened to the other beg.

"I want you," Peter said, and at any other point in time, he would have been surprised by himself for being so forward. " _I_ _need you_ ," he rasped. He pressed his hips up, seeking contact for his painfully hard erection. He didn't even care what kind of contact it wound up being, he just knew he _needed_ it, and he needed it with and from _Deadpool_. He swallowed, but it did nothing to loosen his throat. "I need you to be _mine_."

Wade's breath got caught on the way out. He could feel the strength behind Peter's hips, the way they snapped forward, completely demanding. Wade could feel the ache in his stomach easing just a fraction; the smell and feeling of the other man's skin was like a much-needed ice bath for his fever. The bald man timidly smoothed his hand down Spider-Man's chest to his abdomen, his palms skirting over his groin. Wade moaned quietly, Peter's words repeating like a mantra in his head. He found he was almost choking on his own, fighting every instinct to just climb into the other man's lap. "Ma-make me _yours_. God, _please_."

And there went the string, snapping so hard and fast that Peter hardly knew what hit him. He arched up into Deadpool's touch, and he hissed through his teeth, holding on even tighter. "F- _fuck_ ," he gasped, and in an instant, he was on top of Deadpool, having flipped the other onto his back, and was grinding his hips down, making a sound very akin to some distressed animal’s cry. It was satisfying, but it wasn't enough to scratch the itch he had. Hooking his thumbs in his spandex, he wriggled out of his bottoms, taking the shoes off as well, which had stuck to his pants.

Deadpool's entire body was tense, the air getting knocked out of him when he hit the ground. He hadn't even had time to truly let it sink in that he was getting help with his heat from _Spider-Man_. Wade mewled loudly, arching forward any way he could. He couldn't gain a whole lot of purchase on the ground underneath them, and he found himself completely at the other’s mercy. Wade rolled his hips the best he could, slick quite literally dripping from his thighs as he felt Peter's hips rut against him. Wade moaned encouragingly without even meaning to, and his nails dug into the slighter male's shoulders. Everything was simultaneously too much and drastically not enough. The ability to form a single coherent sentence was now completely lost on the mercenary.

Peter grabbed desperately at Deadpool's own bottoms, shaking and fumbling almost too hard to unbutton them and pull them down enough to get anywhere he really wanted access to. With that done almost on some sort of autopilot, he pushed Deadpool's now naked legs up so far that they were now flat against the Merc's chest.

God, that smell had completely enveloped his senses, and it was making him salivate. Without anything to cover it, he could actually _taste_ Wade’s slick it was so strong. He pushed himself forward, and even though his aim was slightly off, the generous lubrication and the shape of Deadpool's body practically pulled him in. He opened his mouth in a completely silent scream -- it could only _be_ a scream. His eyes clamped shut and he curled over Deadpool's body, gasping for breath, every exhale coming out as a sob.

Peter's hips were now bucking hard against Deadpool, and he didn't have the presence of mind to try to hold back his strength. He was too lost to his rut, and he didn't even feel like he was still in his shitty little apartment bedroom with its over-worn carpet and poor insulation. He was finally getting what he so desperately needed, and he clung to Deadpool as he thrust forward. He panted wantonly against the other man's ear, his breath hitching in a gasp on every inward thrust.

Deadpool was _his_ and his _alone_. The thought brought a growl up from his throat. "Mine," he hissed, and with it came a particularly rough push of his hips. He felt like he was king of the entire fucking world right now.

The distinct smell of distressed Omega was quickly dissipated to be replaced with the combined stench of Alpha and Omega falling deeper down the rabbit hole of lust. The air was so unbelievably thick with it that Wade was having a time simply catching his breath. He was shivering, taking every single one of Spider-Man's thrusts like this was exactly what he was born to do. His throat was getting sore, but he was unable to stop any of the high pitched, airy noises he was making. The thick, predatory words falling from the other man's mouth had Wade arching and begging to be fucked harder. He wanted -- _craved_ \-- absolutely everything that Spider-Man could possibly give him.

Tears trailed down Wade's face, his heat twisting up his insides. Broken cries made the mercenary's voice pick up, that tipping point already rearing its ugly head. He was so euphoric that everything, even the carpet burn on his back, only made him feel like white hot pressure was completely enveloping him. The glory of a heat was being so easily sated once you got what you needed; until the knot goes down at least. Omega heat, especially after years of suppressants, could last for _days_.

Peter had also completely lost himself to this, as so many Alphas had before him to their first rut. The way Deadpool took all of it, all of _him_ , was an all-consuming sensation... Just as the Merc's body begged for more, Peter granted more to him, and he could feel something strange happening to his body. He'd cum at his own hands before, but never had he felt like this. It was a pressure, one he couldn't give a name to, and it bubbled up as the feeling of climax came closer. Oh, God, he was _close_ , and that pressure got more and more intense. Right as he felt himself about to tip over the edge, he growled and lurched, then bit down hard, his jaw locking at the base of Deadpool's neck and shoulder.

Wade felt his entire body quaking when he was bitten. _Oh no_. Oh God, Spider-Man marked him. He moaned loudly, the hero's scent practically exploding over and inside of him.

Tremors ran through Peter hard, and within seconds he was cumming, pressed as deep as he could go into the other. With each spurt, a shudder racked his body, and he felt a little of the hysteria pass. Breathless, he let go of Deadpool's skin, and he started licking the blood away without a thought -- all of this came to him on instinct.

Wade widened his hips, his own pleasure already kicking him over the edge, too. It was a bizarre phenomena that male Omega didn't produce a physical release during a heat, but were still able to reach orgasm. The superhero's knot was pulsing inside of him and Wade keened loudly, clinging to his Alpha as they still managed to move together in a perfect sync. The mercenary's body was milking at Peter's, shuddering and arching as the other man continued to fill him. Wade's eyes were glazed over and tears streaked his face, never quite having experienced something that breath-taking before. He slumped against the younger of them, burying his face in the crook of Peter's neck, nuzzling and kissing over his scent glands.

As Peter tried to pull out, his member oversensitive and stinging, he found quite suddenly that he _couldn't_. A part of him felt scared, and he tried again to pull his hips back only to get the same result.

He was honest to God stuck inside of Deadpool.

Peter's entire body was shaking for a multitude of reasons. The panic was settled in his gut, but it was dulled by the physical sensations, the adrenaline, and the feeling of immense satisfaction that he had mated and marked Deadpool. Said Merc didn't seem concerned about his predicament, and in fact was taking it all in stride, apparently enjoying the feeling of Peter being unable to pull out.

Suddenly it dawned on him that _this_ was a _knot_. He allowed himself the time to let it sink in that he truly was, in fact, an Alpha. An Alpha who just had his first rut and marked an Omega. He couldn't even find it in himself to be upset about it, because all that was there was desire and the need to keep Deadpool (who was currently using his mouth to make Peter feel incredible). All he could do was cling to the mercenary, trying desperately to catch his breath. Deadpool was his mate, and that's all that mattered to him right then.

It was, however, slightly worrying to Peter that he could already feel arousal coming back to him.  He lifted himself on trembling arms to look at his mate's face.

Wade's skin was flushed as much as the scars would allow. He whimpered quietly as Peter shifted, not quite able to look his Alpha in the eye. This was the most lucid he'd been in hours and it was absolutely nerve-wracking. He was practically buzzing, nervous energy pent up in his limbs. Spider-Man was still buried deep inside of him and it made him quiver.

Peter started to feel the pressure letting up, and he sighed in relief. At least he wasn't feeling the pins-and-needles sensation from an over-sensitive cock right now. With a final tug, he slid free, and the apartment's air felt frigid against him. He was still panting, and the euphoric aftertaste from his orgasm lingered.

But he had just mated an Omega. He’d just lost himself, and pinned Deadpool down, and -- oh, God, _he had mated with Deadpool._

Wade shied away from Peter's stare, worrying at his bottom lip instead. He allowed his body relax, completely pliant and under Spider-Man's control. Wade knew the rules even if Peter didn't. His voice was slurred slightly but still rang completely honest. "You're real pretty under that mask, Sir."

Even though the other's compliance, his submission, should have made Peter puff up, the fact that it was learned from someone else made him exceptionally jealous and more than a little miffed. "Don't call me 'sir'," he said, his brain focussing on that more than the fact that his identity was at risk, and he fell back on his legs. He rubbed his hands over his face.

Peter had revealed himself to Deadpool, just _mated with Deadpool_ , and then he'd _marked him_ , and that was the best feeling of his entire goddamn life. He was a little bit horrified to realize he wanted to do it _again_. And now Deadpool knew what he _looked like_ , a secret he'd kept from every other living person on the planet. "Oh my God, I'm an Alpha," was all he could say, despite every other thought screaming in his head. Deadpool smelled like him now, and even though they were both sated and mostly sober for that very second, the Merc still smelled like he was in heat, and Peter’s body started to respond to it.

Wade flinched because he didn't know what else to _call_ his Alpha. The Omega shifted awkwardly, bashfully closing his legs and attempting to sit up. He swallowed, a shiver racking his frame when he realized it was more than just slick running down from between his thighs. He was seriously stark naked on Spider-Man's floor, covered in slick, cum, blood, and sweat. In any other circumstance he'd be praying for a handgun, but, well, isn't that what got him in this situation in the first place?

The mercenary moved to make himself smaller, before swallowing thoughtfully. He was fidgeting, that now familiar roaring heat threatening to rip into the small strands of sanity he had regained. "Then would you prefer I just call you _Spider-Man_? I don't know anything else."

Peter didn't even know how much his words affected Deadpool, because his words had never really held much meaning to anyone before. Not without his mask on, and even a lot of times with it on, too. When he heard the waver in Deadpool's voice, he spread his fingers and peeked through them at the morbidly scarred man lying on his carpet. He looked so unlike how he was supposed to, so unlike _Deadpool_. (Though, he'd never really expected Deadpool to look like _this_ under his costume in the first place. How had he even gotten all those marks? Couldn't he heal?) Peter dropped his hands entirely, and he opened his mouth and closed it, before repeating the process once more.

"I -- no, just, uh..."  He looked down at their clothes strewn about, and he realized that he was just wearing the top of his costume. "...Peter. Just call me Peter."

There was no reason to keep his name from Deadpool at this point. He swallowed hard, and he tried to keep his head screwed on tight, despite the smells that were going after his senses again. He closed his eyes to try to calm himself, just as his pupils had started to dilate. "Are you okay?" he asked awkwardly. God, he'd just fucked Deadpool into his floor, and he wanted to do it again. His strength had been completely out of his own control. And, well, Deadpool was still _alive_ , and Peter could only assume his pelvis was still in-tact because he wasn't complaining about it, or acting like it was shattered to pieces. Nothing was too purple that he could see.

He didn't like that his instincts were trying to take over again, though they were nowhere near as bad as when they'd first hit him. His hands were starting to shake.

Wade nodded before he realized that Peter wasn't looking at him. "Peter..." he tested the name, liking the way it formed on his tongue. He chewed at the inside of his cheek, realizing that the human arachnid likely didn't know his name, either. Wade nervously rubbed at his exposed bicep. "My name's Wade. Wade Wilson. But uh, I... you can call me whatever you feel is more appropriate."

Wade was torn between moving closer to Peter and curling in on himself. The fire in his stomach was begging for him to be right up against to his Alpha, but the air around Spider-Man seemed wary and unstable.

Was Peter regretting their bond? _No shit._ Of course he was. It was an accident in the middle of his first rut. It just felt right for the moment. No one would ever consciously mate with _Wade Wilson_ , the regenerating degenerate. This was a fact that Wade had engrained into his skull so long ago that he couldn't remember when it started, so why did he still feel like his heart was sinking?

"I'm sorry I got you caught up in this, Peter."

Peter shivered every time Deadpool said his name. It lit the fire in him that now burned strong. "Wade," Peter tried in response, as if he didn’t actually register the last thing the other had said.  " _My_ Wade," he added. Somehow, even though it had been one huge mess and undeniably an accident, Peter couldn't find it in himself to regret it. Hell, nothing about Wade turned Peter away -- not even his skin, which, truth be told, wasn't a very pretty sight. He didn't bother to stop himself when he heaved himself forward and nuzzled at Wade's throat, putting more of his scent on the other man. He kissed the bite mark he'd made.

If there wasn't such a fog in his head, he would have been worried about what would happen if the mating had been successful and Wade had gotten pregnant. But right now, in the moment, that thought wasn't too scary. He was proud, and glad that he'd found Wade first.  These hormones were sure doing a number on his thoughts and feelings.

Wade moaned sheepishly, the slow-healing mark still ultra sensitive. He leaned up wrapping his arms around Peter's shoulders. The way New York’s hero said his name so possessive and strong, it made his heart flutter back up towards his chest.

The mercenary's fingers flexed against Peter's strong back muscles and he presented his neck and shoulder to his Alpha. It was equally a sign of trust just as much as it felt toe curlingly amazing to have Peter's mouth there. The air around them was getting thick again, making Wade feel fuzzy and almost like he was something delicate.

Even though all of this was incredibly new to Peter, the reason behind Wade’s movements seemed to register in his mind. He liked it -- maybe a bit _too_ much. He attached his lips to the mark, sucking on it. It had already stopped bleeding, but there was still some dried blood, and he let the coppery taste linger on his tongue. His tiredness was ebbing away, and he actually felt like he could make it a few more rounds.

Before his brain got any more clouded, he paused, just long enough to speak. "Let's use the bed." He had carpet burns on his knees, and he didn't really want to know what Wade's back must have felt like. His ribs throbbed dully in his chest as the adrenaline started to wear low.

Wade agreed, moving to stand on shaking legs. His hips popped as he did so and he groaned, staying close to his mate.

Peter hoped that repeating lines in his head would help him remember them after his rut slowed -- that Wade had been _hurt_ , and he should tend to that. Or, at least, that pop sounded like it hurt.

Wade, meanwhile, was preoccupied with not wanting to do something he wasn't supposed to or make an ass of himself to his Alpha. This was Peter's _home_ , not some den or dive-bar. He had to be respectful. But Wade's stomach was tying itself in knots, the second wave of his heat hitting him like a bulldozer. He nuzzled his nose against Peter's shoulder boldly, making sure to keep his stature small. His thighs were practically sopping and in any other situation he would feel absolutely disgusting and used.

A rumble came right from Peter’s chest as Wade leaned into him, and he lead them both onto the bed. It creaked and groaned at so much weight being put on the mattress that was already in such sad shape to begin with. But he could smell the other's slick and heat so strongly…

"I..." Wade's voice was raspy, his fingers lightly clinging to the hem of Peter's top as he was lowered. He was almost ashamed for wanting to ask -- this wasn't supposed to be intimate or all that loving. It was a biological itch that desperately needed to be scratched. If the Alpha didn't want intimacy, the Omega had no right to demand it. "Just this once... kiss me?"

Peter was thrown completely for a loop when Wade spoke up, actually speaking his mind instead of being quiet and mousy. Well, he still looked mousy, but...

Peter gripped Wade's jaw, and he pressed a kiss to the other's chapped lips. He didn't even think about _not_ doing it -- they'd just made a literal impression on the floor, and all Wade wanted in return was a kiss. (Well, a kiss among other things, but still.) Peter hadn't had intimacy in his life for a long time -- he wouldn't allow it. He had the city to worry about, and school, and work; he didn't need personal relationships on top of that. It often made him feel lonely, but it was for the best in the end.

A high-pitched moan escaped into the kiss and Wade was practically writhing with joy. Peter tasted amazing to him. The scarred man gripped at Peter's ribs (which caused a pained sound from the Alpha and Wade immediately let up), feeling himself getting lost in the feeling of the other man's body. He was definitely far more lucid this go around despite the absolute need to be completely dominated by his Alpha.

Wade gently knocked Peter onto his back, being careful to not seem like he was being aggressive or trying to overstep his place.

The pain in his broken bones didn't distract Peter too much. The hormones coursing through his veins were numbing out his other senses... but to say he was surprised that Wade was the one getting Peter on his back was an understatement. Peter, unsure how to feel, blinked up at the other man.

Wade’s body was trembling but he couldn't stop the need to kiss and worship his Alpha. He moved almost like a cat, his mouth leaving a trail of hot kisses down Peter's abdomen after pushing up the costume.

Peter hissed again, but now for an entirely different reason. He arched into the kisses, fully enjoying the treatment.

"Wade," he breathed, adding, " _My_ Wade," quickly afterward. He was already getting to half-hard again.

The arousal in the air was thick and heady. Wade couldn't smell his own heat anymore when he was this close to Peter, and that alone was a blessing, a true Heaven-sent. "My Alpha..." Wade's voice was soft but no less possessive when he responded in kind.

Wade's kisses traveled lower and he raked his fingers up Peter's thighs. Before he could talk himself out of it, Wade wrapped his lips around the head of the other man's cock, moaning in an exhale around it.

Peter sucked in a gasp of air when suddenly the tip of his member was enveloped in a wet heat. He'd never had anyone give him head before, and that made it all the more arousing that it was his mate who was doing it. His hands, desperate for purchase, gripped the sides of Wade's skull. "Oh," he groaned, and he swallowed hard. (Speaking of hard, he was no longer even slightly flaccid, Wade's mouth made sure of that.) His eyes were glazed over, half-lidded, and his expression was something right out of a bad porn video.

The Omega shifted himself on the bed, hips high in the air as he worked his mouth lower. Peter's taste was intoxicating as he slowly bobbed his head, creating a shallow rhythm of suction. The feeling of the other man’s lithe fingers holding onto him gave them both the comfort they needed -- to be in charge and to be led, respectively.

The praising noises in response were doing wonders for the scarred man. His hips widened and Wade's tongue rippled and curled around the underside of Peter’s length. The small part of Wade's brain that managed to stay logical through this made him question how Peter never realized he was an Alpha before now -- the man was hung like a fucking horse.

After a few moments, Wade's jaw went completely lax. He arched into Peter's hands, trying to give the other the incentive to move his hips. Wade's hand traveled down his own body, fingers already drenched in his own slick and Peter's release. He moaned and it came out muffled, before pressing two of his own fingers inside of himself, desperate to have that stretched, full feeling again.  
  
A feral sound escaped Peter, and he jerked his hips up into Wade's mouth. As amazing as this felt, his core knew he needed something beyond the other's tongue to satisfy his need. After a few more thrusts, he pulled Wade off of him, coaxing his mate up so that their mouths could meet. Words that would have left him red-faced before now fell from his lips. "Ride me."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More sex is had, and it gets heavy afterward when backstories are dredged up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are so, so sorry we took so long to post this chapter. Meeps' internet was shut off until yesterday, and Katastrophi has been busy. Hopefully the next chapter will be up sooner if life will stop being such a dick.
> 
> Also this one gets pretty heavy at the end.
> 
> Thank you all for commenting, giving kudos, and bookmarking this fic! Please let us know if we missed anything.

Wade's lips were slightly swollen, a feverish hue painted on his cheeks. He was really getting kissed after  _ that _ ? The older man sat up, before shakily reaching behind him to help direct Peter’s member. Grasping at the bedding for leverage with his free hand, Wade glanced backwards only after the kiss broke, and he didn't even think twice about sinking his hips down. He took Peter to the hilt at the first try, his insides already stretched and too well lubricated to even remotely sting.

The scarred man arched his spine sharply, widening his hips to adjust to Peter's girth for a second time. He lifted himself up before rocking his body back down almost immediately. The idea of having this much control over their mating had Wade feeling a little lightheaded. He worried his bottom lip, keeping his grip solid on the blankets underneath them.

Peter let out a loud groan; his hands easily found Wade's hips and he gripped them hard enough to bruise as he tried to adjust to the rhythm and catch each thrust. His poor mattress was greeting each one with a strained squeak. His mouth ached for something to latch onto, and his thighs trembled as his muscles moved. One of his hands found its way to Wade's crotch, fingers curling around his mate’s length. He wanted to hear more of his Omega’s voice, more of him sounding completely out of his mind.

With Peter's hand on his cock, Wade almost choked during a tremor of shock. He keened loudly, his mind far too gone to keep quiet. His senses were overloaded and all he could possibly think of was getting Peter deeper inside of him. Wade was whining while using his own natural strength to ride his Alpha.

A high moan of Peter's name was pulled from Wade's chest and he twisted his middle. His larger body arched over Peter, his hips snapping down. It was almost like he couldn't move fast or hard enough to satiate his own needs.

Peter seemed to be thinking along the same lines as Wade, because his thrusts were getting rougher, his hand that was still on the other's thigh was now pulling him down to meet each one. After a point, Peter seemed to lose himself completely again, and he let go before wrapping his arms around Wade's torso. He pulled the larger man off of him, and in the span of half a second, Peter had flipped them, and had the Merc pinned against his bed as he entered him again. A low growl rumbled up from his throat just before he curled down over his mate and started leaving a trail of bites along his collarbone, shoulder, and anywhere else he could get his teeth.

Wade had given a yelp of protest at first when Peter had so easily pulled him off of his cock. If the army-trained assassin even had a shred of dignity left in him, he would likely have flushed darker and been at least a little embarrassed of the wanton moans and wavering cries of ecstasy now pouring from between his lips at their new position. His body was already reaching that hyperaware point, squeezing around Peter as he dug his fingers into the sheets underneath his back. Words couldn't even properly string together in his mind, only odd sounds and encouraging twitches of his hips spurred on Peter's movements, begging to be completely and utterly controlled.

Peter was so tuned out from the reality around the two of them that he barely even heard his bedframe cracking into the wall (which every tenant in the complex could probably hear, in all honesty). Wade's slick was covering his own stomach and thighs, both from when the older man was riding him and from how hard Peter was slamming himself into him now. He was starting to feel that thick pressure building up inside him again. At least now he knew what it was, and he knew that he was close. Sweat was practically dripping from his body as he reached down to wrestle Wade's hands into intertwining their fingers, and he bit down on the other side of his mate's neck, effectively marking both sides of him. He came hard, and his last few thrusts were muted thanks to his knot.

Wade cried out, his back arching entirely off the bed. His abdominal muscles tightened and his own climax peaked, his entire being shaking as the waves hit him one after the other. He was left panting desperately, his body squeezing and rolling against his lover's knot as they both rode out their orgasms.

Numbly, Wade tilted his head, completely exposing his neck to his Alpha. God, Peter’d marked him  _ twice _ . That was almost the equivalent of a marriage proposal in more rural and traditional areas. The mercenary pressed up against the other, trying to steal his intense warmth. "Peter," he managed between gasps.

Peter's jaw only went slack once his body was done supplying him with spurts of cum. He bent over his mate, huffing and puffing against Wade's throat, as his arms and legs trembled with muscle strain. He went limp on top of the broad body underneath him, making a pained sound because his ribs were being compressed. Right. He needed to set those.  _ Damnit _ .

"Wade," he breathed in response, and even though his brain was telling him he could keep going all night, his body was starting to tell him otherwise. He only then realized that their fingers were still tangled, and he sighed ( _ ow _ ), giving his mate's hands a light squeeze. He yearned to just fall asleep right then and there, but he knew he couldn't do that. He didn't want to have to re-break his ribs to set them later (he'd had to do that with his wrist once and the memory had him cringing). He, defiant of his body, nuzzled Wade's jaw, not wanting to remove himself just yet. Thank every deity for nature’s painkiller, or else he’d be in much worse shape.

The scarred man purred happily, his chest heaving as he slowly came down from his own high. He wiped at his mouth after a second, only just realizing he had started drooling somewhere during the act. God, he could barely move and he felt absolutely  _ amazing _ . The tone in Peter's voice was making his heart thump wildly in its cage. His mouth pulled into a grin when he, too, realized they were holding hands.

Then he heard the way Peter sounded like he was in pain. Suddenly the night came back to him; his Alpha was hurt. He just... he  _ let  _ Peter focus on  _ him  _ while he was  _ injured _ . Wade felt like a dog. Sheepishly, the older male placed a few kisses on Peter's knuckles as a weak apology. "I... can help with your ribs."

Another sound came from Peter's throat, but it was pleasure from having his hands worshipped mixed with the strain from using his lungs for their intended purpose. He was honestly surprised that Wade even knew about his ribs -- until he remembered that he'd briefly mentioned it before carting the guy off. Instead, he was impressed Wade had remembered that at all, especially after experiencing what it's like having the haze of a rut settle over his mind.

"Don't wanna get up," he said petulantly, his voice muffled against Wade's skin. But eventually he did, and he was upset that he’d had to let go of his mate's hands to push himself up, which also pulled him out of the other. He tugged the bottom of his top up and over his head, and beneath it was a nicely bruised chest, even though patches in the dark purples were already turning a bile-like color, nearly healed, mostly around the edges. He looked down at himself, and it was his first time seeing the discoloration. Wonderful. There were even still patches of black directly around the breaks.

(He was actively fighting to not let the all-encompassing brain-fog come back, but he could  _ still  _ smell Wade's heat.)

Wade's entire body protested as he moved out from under the slighter male, but he shoved that back. Peter was  _ hurt because of him _ .  _ His Alpha _ was  _ injured  _ because he had been stupid and needed saving. It was like ice actively taking over the cramps in his stomach. Wade’s fingers deftly reached forward, but he stopped just short of touching. Pissed off and pained Alphas tended to lash out, even right after mating. He knew that first-hand. 

"This-this is my fault, isn't it?" Wade spoke slowly, his fingers twitching. "If I... I hadn't been so stupid, you wouldn't have been out there gettin' the shit knocked out of you." 

Swallowing, Wade sat up completely, a soft gasp and shudder racked him when he felt cold air attack his thighs. "I can set your ribs, but s'not gonna feel that great."

His heat was still roaring in the back of his mind, threatening to start that pins and needles sensation all over again if he wasn’t touched, but his nurturing instincts seemed to overpower it for the time being. His Alpha needed attention.  _ This  _ was far more important.

That it was technically Wade's fault never even entered Peter's head, not once. He frowned hard at his mate --  _ Wade  _ wasn't the one who'd zapped him into the wall of a 24-hour gas station and straight through five shelves (of junk food, fake vitamins, pain relievers, and condoms), and  _ then  _ into the glass of the refrigerated alcohol section. "It's not your fault someone  _ shot you _ ," he snapped, and thinking about that made him question his own strict no-kill policy. That AIM agent had better pray that Peter never got his hands on him (and that scared him).

He was almost just as angry to think about Wade blaming himself. Whether it was a side-effect of being an Omega, or whether someone had drilled it into his head just like they had with the word 'sir' (oh, his blood boiled with jealousy for a second), didn't change that.

"I've had bones set before," he said.  "I know it sucks."

Wade shied away for a second, wanting to make sure that Peter didn't take a swing at him. It would be a fair reaction. Ribs were a bitch and a half to deal with.

"S'my fault for not being prepared. Omega always gotta be in charge'a their suppressants. Should'a carried them on me; I know my line of work. It ain't the first time I took one to the back of the head." Wade rambled as he moved, his right palm resting just over Peter's ribs, trying to find the exact breaking points.

He gave a hollow, almost sad laugh about this mess after finding the tender area, and he applied only enough pressure to medically shift the fracture. Luckily, it felt like a clean one -- it would heal perfectly so long as they didn’t shift again. Peter was thankfully already gritting his teeth from his bad temper when his bones audibly cracked into place, and his entire body tensed up into what felt like a brick. It took him several seconds to breathe his way down from seeing nothing but white. If he'd been doing it himself it probably would have hurt less, because he'd at least be expecting his own movements.

He'd completely lost his train of thought throughout this, but Wade's words brought him back.

"D'you know if an Alpha gets hurt real bad or dies, I can go to jail for assault or murder? E-even you… if you, uh, wanted to go to the police... I could... I could be arrested on a rape charge and unlawful mating. Since I didn't take my suppressants, it's my responsibility."

Peter was left in a stunned silence.

Then he felt his aforementioned bad temper rising even  _ higher _ , and that was something that he'd noticed more often since getting bitten by that spider -- that his anger could cloud his mind and take him over much easier than ever before. It could have been puberty, or puberty coupled with the DNA change, but it made him a dangerous person to piss off, especially while he was in-costume.

He knew Omegas were discriminated against, but as he'd never had to personally deal with that, being a Beta -- or at least, he’d  _ thought  _ he was... or actually  _ had  _ been? He would think on that later -- but... He'd just sort of spaced out during History and Social Studies, because he had those classes with Gwen. And despite being a star student (at least up until his uncle died and he'd started his part-time superhero gig), he actually did better studying on his own time because school just plain bored him half to death.

He didn't know how to react to this information. He'd never been close with any Omega, at least not after puberty (as they were usually taken out of school to be home-schooled or sent off to a private school), so he just didn't... think on it.

"I'm not going to turn you over to the police," Peter finally said, and he didn't know what he felt more -- the building rage or just numbness. The thought of sending Wade to prison for this turned his stomach. They were  _ mated _ , and Wade was going on like that didn't matter (and he supposed it didn't, not to the government anyway). "I'd never turn you over for that!"

Besides, Wade was  _ his _ .

The mercenary awkwardly shifted his weight for a second, realizing he would have to come clean eventually. There was no way he would be able to get through this heat without the conversation coming up sooner or later. Better it be sooner.

"I..." Wade couldn't even look at Peter, too busy being disgusted and ashamed of himself. "I'm defective, Peter.

"You, uh..." he swallowed, finding it easier to talk to his scarred hands. "When you mate, after that, you don't, uh... you don't  _ get  _ that urge to bite and mark your partner again. You did with me because the first mark never actually  _ took _ . My body won't let me hold a mark for more than a few hours. You could literally rip out my scent glands with your teeth an' it’ll grow back. Trust me, I know.

"You don't want me as your mate, anyway. I-I... I'm a male omega; and I'm infertile. I'm basically completely useless to an Alpha, especially a good Alpha like you." There was a deep rooted misery in Wade's tone. Voicing the insecurities that had been beaten into him since childhood left him feeling drained and like he was the equivalent of a used condom that missed the trash can to land on the floor.

If Peter had to list off things he was expecting from this conversation, Wade being defective would not have been one. And the news he dropped on Peter  _ after  _ that felt like a nuke, wiping out everything in its path and then some. The Alpha just stared, his mind honestly unable to fully process what he had heard. He had no idea about what marking actually meant past that it linked them together for all of its existence, made them truly mated. He hadn't even wondered  _ why  _ he had done it more than once. He didn't know that wasn't normal, and didn't know to question it in the first place.

He also felt very sick to his gut.

This news felt like it hurt him worse than setting his rib had.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from the first bite he'd left, and since he'd rubbed some of the dried blood off already, he could see underneath it that the wound looked like it was two days into healing up on a normal person; some parts were scabbed over, and the more shallow cuts were already completely closed up. He hadn't even noticed it healing because of the way Wade's skin looked, and because he'd completely lost his logical mind to his rut.

So they'd just...  _ he'd _ just mated Wade, and Wade would never be able to hold that? Did the Omega feel  _ any  _ emotional connection at all afterward? Did it all just vanish, like the mark itself? Peter hadn't noticed until then that his hands had started shaking. He felt like he'd taken a blow to the abdomen and it completely knocked the air out of his lungs.

" _ What _ ?" was all he say, dumbly. He hardly registered that he'd said anything at all.

"The doctors in the Hospice liked to call me a ‘crash test dummy’." Wade scratched at his arm, unsure of why he was talking about this -- he  _ never  _ talked about this. He felt like he was going to throw up. The look on Peter's face was ripping a hole in his heart. He knew he was unworthy to even  _ look  _ at someone as amazing as Spider-Man, let alone want to  _ mate him _ .

Wade's fingers twitched again and he started nervously rambling, trying to explain himself. Peter was his Alpha, he  _ had  _ to know what he was getting into. You can't just give someone a broken down car without telling them what's fucked up about it. "M'dad was a traditionalist, couldn't stand that he fucked up so bad to produce an Omega son, ‘n mama told me I was a lucky son of a bitch ta not get drowned in a bathtub when the doctor told them." 

Wade's eyes were down. He couldn't even look at Peter. The haze in his mind was ebbing away, his emotional distress pushing his heat into a momentary pause. The more lucid he was, the more anxious he got. "Dad trained me up real proper ta be an Omega. He drilled the proper rules into my head. I can be a good Omega to you, I promise. I-I... I can do whatever you need. I think I, uh, I think I even used to be fertile. I don't..."

Wade froze for a second, trying to figure out exactly how he wanted to phrase his next words. "When I got old enough to naturally go into heat, he shipped me off. I thought it was a boarding school like a normal Omega would go to. Turns out dad’d sold me off to some testing facility that only took male Omegas. At first, they tried to make me an Alpha but, well, apparently I'm too fucked up even for conversion. It just made my smell  _ worse _ . Made it reach for a mile, made it linger longer. I always smell like I'm in heat if I'm not on suppressants, and when I do go into heat, well, uh... you saw that." 

Wade hadn't realized he’d started digging into his arm. His fingernails were bloody and trembling. He was already too far down that rabbit hole, almost able to remember some of the faces of those ‘doctors’. "When they realized they fucked up, they just... they threw me to the wolves. I was their test to see of their Alpha serum gave the newly made Alphas the scent instinct. I'm used and dirty. I've been marked so many times I can't keep track anymore. It's n-never felt like this before, I’ve nev-never felt safe during a heat. I burned that place to the ground. I killed so many people. Sometimes I can still  _ smell  _ it."

Tears were cascading down the older man’s face, pooling on his disgusting, scarred thighs. "I'm s-sorry, Peter... I-I feel like I tricked you somehow. I, the point I was try-trying to make before my brain decided a sob story was fuckin' best is... you-you don't gotta stay mated if you don't wanna... you can find a better Omega, I... I wouldn't stop you from wantin' better."

At first, Peter felt the anger bubbling up in him (when he could start to feel anything again); angry at Wade, angry for not telling him something that important--

But then that washed away, pulled like a tide away from Wade’s shore, and bottoming out into a deep oceanic pit at Wade's parents, at 'Hospice', at Wade's  _ father  _ (what a lie of a title that was).  The level of fury that he was experiencing actually made him just as sick to his stomach as the hurt had, and he wanted little else but to claw at their faces, drown  _ them  _ in a bathtub, to let out some of this feeling like a kettle does with steam. He was shaking for an entirely different reason now. How dare they,  _ how dare they _ . He actually felt pleased that Wade had  _ murdered  _ them, and he knew somewhere in his brain, if he were in his right state of mind, he would be horrified over the exact same scenario.

Peter grabbed Wade's hands, pulled them away from his clawed up arms, and pinned them down onto the bed. He could actually  _ smell  _ how distressed Wade was. His hatred for those people and his desire to calm his mate sat like oil in water, and he could only choose one or the other.

He chose the latter.

He could feel every damn emotion he wanted to later, when Wade didn't need him.

He kissed Wade, kissed the tears off of his cheeks, kissed his jaw and neck, and held the other man's face in his hands. He didn't care that Wade was just that -- another man.  He didn't care that Wade was infertile. "I don't care," he eventually said out loud, repeating the thought that was going through his head a thousand times over.

Wade's breath hitched and he started crying harder, so many confusing emotions ransacking his body. Peter couldn't possibly mean that. He was filthy, better served as a masturbatory aid than a proper mate. He was shaking all over, letting Peter kiss him and do as he pleased. The affectionate embrace made the mercenary feel like he was drowning in the best ways. He didn't deserve this. This was too good for him.

"You-you might change your mind though, when I stop smelling li-like a starving man's buffet." Wade was left sniffling, his head pounding from such a heavy hormonal shift. He greedily pressed his face to Peter's collarbone, the other man's scent slowing his breathing down. If he didn't stop hyperventilating he really was going to throw up.

Every inch of Peter wanted to comfort Wade, and it made his heart feel like it was breaking the way the older man sobbed. They'd only properly met a few times before tonight, and Peter wanted to spend the rest of his life with Wade. He honestly didn't know if that was his instincts-slash-hormones talking (it probably was), but right now it didn't matter. No one deserved to have to hear what Wade's parents had said to him. No one deserved to be tested on like a damn rat in a lab for just existing. The good and noble part of him wouldn't wish that on anyone.

"I'll mark you as many times as I need to," he said, and right then, he meant it. It felt like a challenge; a challenge to Wade's parents, and to those 'doctors', and to anyone else who’d used and left him.

Wade whimpered quietly, his heart honest to God fluttering at Peter's words. He was flushed red, nuzzling his nose into the other man's neck. His voice was murmured, scared but completely serious. "Please think it through first. I can't... I can't handle another person resenting me. I'll be whatever you need me to be, even if that means  _ gone _ . Just don't... don't feel like I’m making you stay. That would make me no better than them, not that I can even say that anyway."

Wade was at least calming down, and Peter was glad for it. He hummed, enjoying the feeling of his mate pressed against him. Wade had no desire to run off, it sounded like -- and that was all Peter was worried about in the aftermath of the other's breakdown. "I'll think about it," he agreed. Now that Wade was recovering, Peter felt the heavy tiredness seeping back into his bones from going twice in a row without stopping for more than a few minutes.

Wade's own breath was heavy, and he was beyond exhausted. He was so physically and mentally drained that he could barely move. Common sense told him that his heat wasn't over. He had to get some form of rest before his own biology decided to wage a war once again. 

The Merc glanced down, feeling that his ears must’ve been glowing pink from how hot they felt. He was still completely and utterly covered in their sexual aftermath and sweat. The rational part of his brain was screaming at him that he was absolutely filthy, but the submissive part was practically shining like the sun. No one would be able to deny that he belonged to Peter right now, and that made him so happy.

He settled his face into Peter's throat again, enjoying the closeness while it lasted. He was a selfish man if nothing else. "I... I can nest on the floor if you prefer. I'm not honestly sure if I can stand properly."

Peter settled himself down on the full-sized mattress, which wasn't the most luxurious or spacious thing in the world, but it was at least better than a single. It just meant they would have to spoon if they wanted to avoid someone rolling off of the bed during the night. He tugged Wade to him,  _ against him _ , and he half-heartedly pulled the covers over part of them with his foot.

"Want you  _ here _ ," he mumbled, and he realized his human pillow felt amazing. The springs digging into his side didn't even bother him right now -- with the euphoria still rushing through him from what had happened that evening, and with how truly tired he was, he actually felt really... great. You know, broken bones and depressing backstories aside.

He fell asleep quickly, and even though it was the first time he'd shared a bed with someone he wanted to cuddle, it felt completely natural. Wade curled in on himself a little, but he let Peter hold him in his sleep. The older man was out before even realizing he was drifting. He nuzzled into the pillow, his back and hips molded perfectly to Peter's form. It was the most comfortable sleep he could remember ever having. Even the voices that typically screamed every time he closed his eyes were silent under Peter's hold. Was it normal to feel this happy?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, sorry for the delay, neither of us have been feeling that great. but here we are with chapter 4!! :D
> 
> And, if you guys want, you could follow us on tumblr and send us asks/drabble prompts! We also have other stories that are all catalogued there. We'd really appreciate it! [ Gaysuperherostories](http://gaysuperherostories.tumblr.com/) is the blog :3
> 
> ~ Broderick

When Peter woke up, he felt like he'd had the best sleep he'd gotten in years, even if he was a little stiff. After a moment, it became obvious that he was stiff from cuddling up with Wade and that had prevented him from rolling over while unconscious. His body had instinctively stayed in that position for the entire night. (That, or he was just in _that_ deep a sleep.)

He untangled himself carefully from the other and sat up. He looked down at himself, catching sight of the fading bruises that still peppered his chest. He noted that his ribs felt a lot better than they had the night before. Also he had morning wood.

Of _course_.

Then he glanced over to Wade.

He remembered it, even as he was waking up to it for the first time -- their bond. Would Wade feel it, too? Did that go away once the marks were gone? Peter’s eyes lingered on the Merc’s completely healed neck, and his heart hurt for the next few beats. So did his gut.

Somehow, he felt like his entire life had been changed, steamrolled over, even if nothing past mating had happened between them. Well -- mating, revealing his identity, _and_ learning more than he ever thought he'd know about Deadpool as a person. And right now he needed breakfast, something to take care of his erection, and to brush his teeth (not in that order).

Beside him, Wade groaned lowly at the flush of cold running down his back when the skin was exposed to the open air. He shifted off of his side, a dull sense of waking up washing over him. He rubbed over his face, able to feel his still feverish skin. God, how long was a heat even supposed to last?

Heat.

Spider-Man.

Peter.

_Alpha._

He gasped, eyes opening immediately. "Peter?"

The sudden movement and sound startled the Alpha; especially since his mate had been seemingly dead asleep only half a second ago. Peter blinked down at Wade, and he quickly looked over his flushed face.

"Yeah?" he replied a little distantly, enjoying the shiver that rattled down his spine. He couldn't help it that his eyes moved to travel along every centimeter of the mercenary's exposed skin.

Wade settled back, tension leaving his frame slightly, and then smiled like a small child receiving his favorite comfort toy. His voice was gravelly from sleep as he spoke. "You're still here."

Of _course_ Peter was still there -- not only would he not have left Wade during the night, at least not without waking him and letting him know first… but this was _his_ bed in _his_ apartment. He couldn’t even come up with a proper response to that before Wade started up again.

Now that the larger man had sat up properly, he sighed, his spine popping in a few spots as he stretched. He watched Peter as he moved, finding it hard to wipe that silly grin off his face. "Good morning, my Alpha."

Peter didn’t know what to do with being stared at. That was certainly a concern he hadn't had in a long time -- but then again, no one had known what face was hiding under the Spider-Man mask in a long time. The irrationally afraid part of him sparked suddenly to life, the part that had been traumatized from losing people he cared about, especially ones that knew what he did when he wasn't in school, was terrified that Wade was going to wind up dead because of him.

But that was the thing: Wade couldn't die. He'd come back most recently from having had his brains blown out, and he had been ripe and ready to get laid afterward. Honestly, Wade was the absolute best choice for a mate Peter could have ever hoped for, because his worst fears would never come to pass.

The shudder that wracked his body when Wade called him his Alpha... "Don't do that if you plan on leaving the bed at all today," he groaned, and he didn't think sleep was the only reason his voice was huskier than it usually was.

Wade purred contentedly, a little shocked but trying not to show it. Peter was flushed and hitting on him, promising to have him writhing later and he could clearly see every crevice and disgusting bit of tarnished skin in the morning light. Wade’s heat wasn't at a peak yet, more or less a spark to feed but Peter still... wanted him? That was mind blowing.

Wade rolled over to lay on his stomach, nuzzling his face into Peter's pillow. He might have stretched his neck and arched his back just a fraction for show, but you wouldn't have noticed if you didn't look for it. "Mhn, why would I want to leave? Everything smells like you an' your bed is more comfy than mine."

Oh, did Peter notice it. He should have found Wade's words ridiculous -- more comfortable than what? Did Wade sleep on concrete? -- but all he could focus on was how tantalizing Wade was with every breath the man took. He rolled over on top of the Merc; and the stab from his ribs was slight enough for him to handle without a flinch, holding himself up on his hands. He started kissing along the back of Wade's shoulder blades and worked his way up to the neck that looked untouched save for the unrelated scarring. There he nipped and sucked on the skin, a slow fire building up inside him. It wasn't the same as last night. Last night it had struck them both down hard and fast, and though it was very enjoyable, this was much slower, much more hot coals instead of a roaring fire.

Wade's stomach flipped, a genuine sense of arousal starting to build in his gut. A heat was a biological need; it was feral and messy, so blurred that you know it's fun and amazing, but it's so different to the concept of having sex to just want it. He let his eyes flutter, arching to give Peter any form of access he wanted. Peter could quite easily own his entire fucking soul if he kept using his mouth like that.

"God," Wade sighed, arching properly. He hadn't really thought this position through; laying flat on his front substantially limited the way he could touch his Alpha.

Peter felt like he could live off only the sounds Wade made. His trail led him to the shell of Wade's ear, and he licked along it, took it into his mouth and played with it. The taste of earwax didn't deter him, but he did start marking his way back down with hickies and a few teeth here and there. He rearranged himself until he was able to comfortably access the small of the other man's back. He even went far enough to land several kisses that were getting shockingly close to Wade's goods. Or, what he could access from this position.

The scarred man's breath picked up, his shoulders tensed. "F-fuck, your mouth is so good..." He purred quietly, his skin feeling like he was on fire in the best of ways.

There was a familiar wet sensation gathering between Wade's thighs and he shifted, feeling mildly embarrassed. They hadn’t showered night before and god, he was nasty. He couldn't let Peter touch him now. "H-hey, maybe we should... shower?"

Peter paused, and he actually entertained the thought. A shower sounded wonderful, but the water tended to run cold after so long.

"Yeah, alright," he agreed, though a little hesitantly. He was already at full mast, but it looked like his ship was going to stay docked, at least for the immediate future.

He also could taste his own morning breath, and he wouldn't wish that on Wade. "I think I still have clean towels..." Wow was it hard to think clearly right then. His mind had wandered to what could be done in said shower, including the time cap.

Wade turned over onto his back and smiled sheepishly. He held his legs together, cheeks pink. He felt almost like a bashful teenager around their high school crush. It was clear to see Peter's arousal and he looked completely breathtaking. Wade felt his own mind wander, remembering vaguely that he had attempted to give the other man head the day before. That thought almost made his mouth water. Would an Alpha knot if it was in their Omega's mouth and not their womb? Now he really needed to know.

"Mhn, lead the way, my Alpha." Wade teased the younger, feeling more himself than he had since before he got shot.

Despite how Wade seemed to err on the side of shy, he was still sounding more like Deadpool than he had all night; and Peter realized that Wade was doing that on purpose, which he groaned at. He couldn't complain -- it was almost like those words were a physical touch, and his body reacted to it.

"Jerk," he said petulantly, but he made himself get off of the bed. It was pretty uncomfortable to try to work around his erection, and there was a part of him that kind of got off to knowing he was completely naked and ready in front of Wade, not to mention that his mate was probably looking.

He glanced back at the Merc, needing to see.

Wade's eyes traced over the web slinger's form, almost audibly swallowing. Peter Parker was a beautiful man, even without the haze of biological sex hormones drenching the mercenary's brain. He swallowed, moving to the edge of the bed and standing. He dipped his head, pressing a heated kiss to Peter's mouth. Morning breath and Omega restrictions be damned, those lips were too plush to ignore. Maybe this was a challenge for dominance; maybe he wanted to push Peter to see if those Alpha instincts would flare.

Wade broke the kiss after a moment, a sheepish grin etched on his features. "My Alpha is so pretty."

Peter caught the kiss and returned it, bad breath or no. Then afterward, his face erupted into a full blush. He hadn't been told anything truly positive about his looks from anyone beyond his aunt in so long.

"You really think that?" he blurted before he could stop himself. He looked embarrassed about it. He felt similarly about Wade, but still -- he was never sure about compliments and they threw off his composure.

Wade laughed, the noise gentle and calm instead of harsh and mocking. He let his calloused fingertips glide over Peter's strong cheekbones and down his jaw. "Absolutely breathtaking. An' that's not even adding the brain numbing hormones that are likely going to make me into a mindless bitch wanting to get bent over. That's a, uh, 'I'm actually more lucid than I've been in about a week and I've had a hard-on for Spider-Man since I met you, but holy fuck you're better than I could imagine' thing." The blemished man chewed his bottom lip, fighting back a smile.

There was something very strange and embarrassing (yet gratifying) knowing that Deadpool hadn't just been joking about having a crush on him. That anyone had had a crush on him, but especially Wade. Most people treated Spider-Man unsurely, and only recently he'd stopped having as much trash thrown at him by civilians. But Deadpool? That guy had been fanboying hard the first time they met, and it had thrown him for a loop.

Peter actually felt shy about that, even though he was smiling like an idiot and leaning into the touch. And yet, a part of him was glowing with pride from it. That Wade thought he was attractive outside of hormones meant a lot. He had never been a huge one for looks, but he had never seen Wade's face before the hormones, and he felt a little bad that he couldn't say what he would have thought before they were mated. He obviously wasn't going to win Miss America, but past Peter worrying about the spots hurting Wade, it didn't turn him off.

Even with how vulgar that was, it was somehow really romantic. Or he was just completely out of his damn mind.

"You are making it really hard to not just pick you up and carry you off," Peter grinned, looking up at Wade. He looked so good worrying his lip like that, and Peter could definitely make good on his threat.

"Oh no, that would be absolutely terrible." Wade rolled his eyes playfully. He fanned his face like he was a Belle of the ball. "I do declare, how dare you threaten me with a good time? I believe you're trying to deflower my sensibilities."

Wade turned away from Peter with a playful swish of his hips. He couldn't back down to Peter yet, even though his mind was screaming to. He wanted to see how long it would take for Peter to snap in the best ways possible. He walked away from his Alpha, moving towards the bedroom door. It was now blatantly obvious that his thighs were stained from previous activities. He may not hold Peter's mark on his neck but he was still repeatedly and thoroughly claimed.

Peter laughed at that. He liked snarky Wade. He liked snarky Wade a lot. Also; his impression of a Southern Belle was surprisingly good. Wade had talked about how good Spider-Man ass was, but Peter sure liked his. It was something to be praised. It looked good even moving away from him, even having last night sticking to his skin. He started following Wade before he knew it, hounding the other's lingering scent.

"I'm planning to do more than that."

"I would be highly disappointed if you weren't, baby boy." Wade's voice held a sing-song quality as he turned back to glance at Peter. He licked over his bottom lip, quite obviously enjoying how Peter was acting.

He stopped in front of Peter's bathroom, standing there as modestly as he could. The pits in his skin seemed to cast deep shadows in the dusky light. He tried to keep it in mind that even though he and Peter had mated, this was Peter's home, not a nest. He had to be respectful of boundaries. In some areas, mating was simply a breeding process. You meet during a heat, you fuck relentlessly, you go back to your normal life until you do it again. Was that them? Would they be that way? It was likely. Spider-Man had a tendency to tell him exactly how insufferable he was.

"After you, Alpha."

Peter noticed how Wade seemed to waver a bit, but he stepped around the taller man, and into his bathroom. It was hardly spacious, with just enough room to squeak past the sink and toilet, and into the shower. It was a blessing that it also had a tub attached, with the fogged glass stall and door above it. Even though the only sitting option was the toilet, Peter turned and tugged Wade into the small space. He smiled up at his mate, and he subconsciously was doing it to put the other at ease, to let him know he was doing just fine.

"I know it's no five-star joint, but please, enjoy Chateau de Parker."

He wanted to hurry up and get the necessities out of the way, so he opened his cabinet and took out his toothbrush and toothpaste, snagging the extra one that was still in the two-for-one plastic packaging.

"I, uh, have an extra, if you wanted to use it," he said, and his grin was a little lopsided as he handed it over to Wade. Why did this domestic scenario make him feel so happy, even though nothing was really going on? Even though it was awkward to stand there fully nude with an erection, brushing his teeth so he didn't have stale breath when he attached his mouth to Wade's?

Wade took the vibrantly pink toothbrush with a grin. He was absolutely positive that Peter had no idea he was acting like an Alpha trying to court an Omega. Gift giving, the show of dominance mixed with the proof of stability, sporting their... _ahem,_ assets proudly. If Wade wasn't already absolutely smitten, this would do the trick. It may be an Omega mindset, but how can you not fall in love with someone who can make you taste the concept of color with just their dick? His healing factor was roaring like normal and he still had that "I just had sex" ache between his legs. He loved it, and this man was an absolute god.

He switched his thighs, a powdered flush on his cheeks. Was he seriously getting wet just thinking about things that had already happened? That was embarrassing. Before Wade could embarrass himself exponentially, he started brushing his teeth. It did nothing to wipe away that 'do Alpha knot in your mouth?' fantasy, but well, there had to be some compromise in the trash heap that was his waking existence.

Spitting into the sink and rinsing his brush, Wade sat his down next to Peter's. "All minty fresh."

Peter couldn't pin down why he felt so good about Wade taking the offered toothbrush, but he did. He beamed like a million watt bulb. Tasting the toothpaste instead of his own gross breath was a nice change, and now his teeth didn't feel fuzzy, which was always preferable. And just after Wade announced that he, too, was done with this morning ritual, Peter turned and kissed him. It was amazing how quickly the older man could get his blood so warm. Even in such an unromantic place, Wade made him feel like he was worth his weight in gold; that he could do this for the rest of his life. He didn't know how much of that was brain chemicals, but he was just going to roll with it -- and he certainly knew a lot more about Wade than he had yesterday morning, so that was already a good start.

There was a tiny whimper in Wade's throat. He hadn't expected Peter to pounce at that moment. He kissed back in earnest, his fingers threading into Peter's coffee brown hair. He moved closer to the younger man, his thigh brushing over his Alpha's erection. Wade moaned, the heat wafting between them making him feel alive.

Before he could properly stop himself, he had Peter backed against the shower stall, that flicker of heat in his stomach growing into a burning flame. He let one of his hands trickle down Peter's frame, grasping his too ready length in his hand.

Wade pulled back from the kiss with a panted breath, squeezing lightly where Peter's knot would eventually form. He knew he was treading on thin ice. Alphas never took challenges well, especially when they truly were in a rut. But maybe, that was a game he wanted to play. He wanted to see Peter snap. He wanted to see just how feral Spider-Man could be.

Part of Peter was surprised that Wade had once again been forward with him, liked that, but the feeling was squashed when Wade took hold of things -- literally. He started another bout of kissing, this one turning aggressive for a second, and he reflex-bit Wade's bottom lip when the other man had squeezed him. Peter clung to those broad shoulders, fingers finding purchase.

Wade gasped when he was bitten, his entire body shivering at the bite. He wanted to relent. He wanted to watch his lover pin him against that wall and completely take him. But oh, the sweet release when Peter finally snapped; it would be beyond worth it. He was almost uncomfortably wet between his thighs just at the prospect. He had to stay strong though; he had to stick to the plan, if only just to tease Peter and watch the way he squirmed.

Giving the younger man a few, almost what could be considered innocent, strokes to his cock, Wade pulled away. He was still defiantly acting in the roll of the dominant, milking the reactions out of Peter. Part of him had to wonder if the boy could smell how excited he really was. "Mhn, I think you promised me a shower, Love."

The glass was slowly heating up behind him, thanks to his body being pushed flush against it, but the cold had initially been a shock to his system. The way that Wade smelled made Peter unable to think about that, though. The other man was very turned on, and Peter would be surprised if everyone in the complex couldn't smell it. He sucked in a shuddering breath as he was stroked.

His hands formed into fists along Wade's shoulders, and he was about to pull him back and forgo the shower entirely (at least for now). His feelings were so torn, since he liked Wade having enough confidence to do this, but he also wanted Wade pinned underneath him. He didn't know which one was going to win out over the other, or how much more Wade intended to tease him.

Removing one of his hands from the other, he blindly stuck his fingers to the sliding door and tugged it open so they could get into the shower. "In," he said, a little breathless.

The steam billowing from the shower made the mercenary moan in anticipation. Maybe he had drawn the noise out a little longer than he should have, but really, what could you do? He climbed in, standing under the spray almost greedily for a second before making room for his Alpha. No matter how much he wanted to play and test the boundaries with Peter, Wade wasn't stupid enough to completely ignore a direct command. He was trying to be teasing, not downright defiant; Peter still completely had the choice to mate with someone else more appealing. This was a courtship dance more than anything else.

Wade gave Peter his personal space, unsure of the other's preference when it came to showering. He knew an Omega's place, though. Pampering an Alpha was just part of it. His voice was soft, a little shy. "Can I wash your hair?"

Peter, once there was enough room, wasted little time in climbing in. He knew that the water wasn't going to stay warm forever, so they needed to take what they could get. He knew, distantly, that Wade was just teasing and only teasing, but it was still driving Peter a little bit crazy in his current haze. Even muffled by the water, he could smell his mate. When the taller asked him about washing his hair, Peter turned around and pulled him down for another kiss. He knew that this probably made the water bounce directly into Wade's face, right off the back of his own head, but he needed the outlet.

Imagining Wade's fingers in his hair... "Yeah," he said from against the other's lips. He only had a single 3-in-1 bottle in there, perched on the corner shelf of the bathtub, so he didn't think there was any reason to tell him what he needed to grab.

The Omega man groaned quietly, able to feel the tight coil of tension in Peter's body. It was such a glorious sight, not to mention being able to feel his arousal digging gently against his thigh. Wade purred gently when he pulled back, grabbing for the bottle. It made the area hold a musky wintergreen smell and he pouted just a fraction. This was going to cover some of Peter's scent and he wasn't pleased about it, but his Alpha was allowed to wear whatever he pleased; Wade wasn't the pushy type. He brought his skilled fingers to Peter's soaked tresses, starting to lather them slowly. He massaged the other man's scalp, leaning forward to kiss over his neck and collar softly as he did. Part of Wade was happy Peter's tousled curls weren't that long; that would make the kisses a bit more difficult to manage.

Even though Peter had every urge in the world to do things to Wade, but when the Merc touched his hair, started to work the soap all the way down into his scalp... A shudder ran down his spine, and his head lolled back. The muscles in his thighs and back twitched when Wade kissed his neck. He began to tense up, despite the warm water that was trying to ease out the knotted cramps instead. A hiss rushed past his teeth. The fog in his head was getting worse.

Wade gently guided Peter to dip under the spray, letting the suds wash free from the chocolate strands. God, Peter looked like perfection. Wade shifted his hips just slightly, chewing the inside of his lip. He pressed a quick kiss to the corner of Peter's mouth before trailing his lips along his jaw to his ear. Wade nipped the lobe just gently before whispering. "Mind helping me wash the back of my thighs, Alpha? it's so hard to reach on my own, and it's your fault anyway." He couldn't help the needy tone that slipped into his voice.

Wade worked his magic on Peter, and the younger was left holding back a few swears, but he let the groans slip out. He was seriously about to 'fuck it' to the time limit and just drag Wade down onto the floor of the tub and--

He opened his eyes, squinting around the water, and looked up into Wade's blue ones. He didn't need to be told twice, even though it took his brain a few seconds to catch up on what words left the other's mouth. He practically lunged forward to kiss his mate, sloppy and desperate.

"I'll wash anywhere you want," he said between kisses, and even a few quick bites. The humidity in the room only made the scent thicker in the air, and Peter was breathing in as much as he could.

Wade groaned lowly, his body reacting to Peter's ministrations. He could feel the heady need in the air and it was twisting his stomach, making his heat want to flair. He stamped it down though; he wanted Peter to absolutely snap. All of this preparation would have been for nothing if he just gave in and begged for it now.

Wade pulled back from the kiss a little prematurely, a smirk on his features. He licked over his bottom lip, his fingers dancing over his own unclaimed scent glands. He was playing absolutely dirty but it was alright. "You're so good for me, my strong, beautiful Alpha."

He completely separated from Peter's body, turning around. It was a sign of trust to turn away from an Alpha in a rut. So, so many things could go wrong. He braced himself against the wall, shivering just lightly at the cold tile. He purred, the sound vibrating deep in his chest as he spread his thighs. "Mhn, please, I'm filthy."

Peter knew, subconsciously, that Wade turning his back meant something significant, but all he could do is bask in the feeling of pride that it brought.

The way that Wade was giving him just enough to almost push him over the edge before withdrawing entirely was maddening. Peter grabbed his washcloth, wetting it and getting it warm before he lathered some of the body wash on it. He did all of this with very thin patience, feeling like it was taking hours too long. He knelt down behind Wade, and he started scrubbing the other man's inner thighs, and the back of them too. The mess from the previous night was easily taken care of, but there was fresh slick that Peter could not only smell but also see moving to replace it, even with the running water. He swallowed hard and the washcloth made a heavy wet slap when it hit the bottom of the tub. He washed his hands off in what must have been record time, and he ran said hands up along the back of the Merc's legs, and up along his the bottom of his backside.

"I think you need a... deeper cleaning."

Wade shifted to Peter's touch, arching almost like a cat. He widened his hips easily, looking over his shoulder to watch his lover's face. He could feel his own body pulsing from the heat between them. He wriggled his hips teasingly, almost embarrassed at the fact that he could smell his own arousal. "Mhn, yeah? How do you suppose we go about that, Peter?"

Wade was seriously actively trying to drive Peter crazy, and it was working. "I think I need to get more hands-on," he replied, and his thumbs came within a hair's width from the other's puckered ring of muscles, his palms spreading Wade's cheeks.

He never would have even thought he'd be talking like this, doing this someone -- not ever. But Wade definitely brought this out of him.

The moan that tumbled from Wade's lips was unintentional but oh god, he could feel the heat from Peter's hand. He rolled his hips back, making Peter press against his entrance. His breath hitched and let his forehead press to the cold tile. His shoulders squared as he continued moving his hips back, testing just how far Peter would let him take matters into his own hands. "Fuck,"

The way Wade so enthusiastically pressed back to meet his touch, and how the scent of his arousal spiked, told Peter all he needed to know. His mouth went dry at the sight, of the other so willingly trying to get off on the Alpha's touch. On bated breath, Peter moved his thumb just slightly, where Wade would be able to actually push back on it on his own. He bit down on his own lip hard enough that he tasted blood.

When Wade pressed back, his breath hitched. He felt Peter's finger slip inside of him. It should probably be embarrassing how it was so easy for him to slip inside. God, Wade was so wet. This was ridiculous. Wade's voice was airy, whispering Peter's name against the tile. He needed more.

Oh, God, Wade's voice was doing more to him than any scent could. Peter's breaths were shaky, as were his hands and legs. There was absolutely no resistance when Wade pushed back on his thumb, it just went right in. He knew that his mate was in heat, but this didn't smell like an overwhelming heat -- so was he just legitimately that turned on by Peter?

"Wade," he said through an exhale, mesmerized. Peter pulled his thumb back, using both hands to spread the other's cheeks wider, and then his head fell forward. His brain had shut off somewhere along the way, and he pushed his tongue in to replace his finger, nose pressed awkwardly against the other's skin, mashed almost flat.

Wade's eyes widened and his face almost froze in a silent scream. He hadn't expected Peter to do that. He fought to keep his hips still, not wanting Peter to hurt his nose or something on his pelvis. His fist clenched to his mouth, trying to keep quiet. This boy was perfection.

They said the tongue was the strongest cluster of muscles in the human body, and Peter was milking that for all it was worth. It might not have been able to reach very far, but it was far enough... and Wade's slick tasted like hormonal-ridden ambrosia. He felt like he was ridden with fever, and he wanted more.

Wade's thighs were quaking and his fingers clenched at the tiles under them. There was a steady stream of noises bubbling from his mouth even though he tried to stomp them down. This felt so much more intimate and intense without the brain numbing heat cursing his mind. He had never felt anything quite like this before; always feeling far too dirty to have a partner after burning the weapon X to the ground. Whoa. Dark thoughts. Not now.

The air around them was getting colder, the droplets, almost bursting against their rapidly heating flesh. Wade's hips twitched involuntarily and he took matters into his own hands, stroking his cock slowly. Maybe he still wanted to push Peter.

Peter's mind was in such a feverish haze, that he hardly noticed the water losing its heat, and Wade's hips moving mutely. All he could hear was the sounds his mate was making, and oh, were they nice.

He was so hard it hurt -- and when he went to touch himself, it sent a jolt up his spine and down into his legs; over-stimulation that teetered on the edge of pleasure and pain. With effort, he pulled his face back, a trail of the slick still connecting his mouth to Wade. He needed more. He had to be selfish, but was it really so selfish when he knew Wade would like it, too?

He stood up and pressed his hips against the Merc's thigh, and he gasped at the sensation, trying to let it dull into something manageable. "I love the sounds you make," he said breathlessly, as he lined his body up flush with Wade's back. His feet had thankfully gained traction despite the slick surface, and the water on top of that. He could stick to perfectly smooth glass, and he could do this, too.

"Do you want me?" he asked, his voice thick and husky.

The question sent ripples of heat racing down Wade's spine. He was almost too far gone. It was hard for him to grasp enough air to fill his lungs. The heat and absolute dominance radiating from the younger man was making Wade feel almost intoxicated. He had to keep to the plan, though. He wanted Peter to take what he needed. He wanted his Alpha to experience what it was like to go into an alphaic heat brought on during a desperately needed rut.

Wade pressed his hips back to Peter's, his slick thighs sliding and grinding against his lover. He shifted away after a moment, using absolutely every drop of self restraint he had to not sink back onto Peter's more than willing cock. He tapped Peter's chest, kissing him heatedly. "How about," he puffed a hot breath against the other man's lips. He could taste himself on Peter's tongue and that only made him slicker, as fucked up as it was. "We get out of this cold water? Wouldn't wanna get sick."

Peter was experiencing colors, and it was such a bizarre thing when Wade practically turned him down. He didn't understand -- didn't Wade want to...? He was left staring blankly, lost. To lose all contact, and so suddenly... Peter whined, and it tapered off in his throat, high and dragged on.

The water was cold. What was worse, was that it was rapidly turning colder, and it was affecting him even in his escalating rut. He could smell how turned on Wade was, but he wasn't going along with Peter's advances. "Come on," he said after the kiss, desperately, even as he shivered from the shower.

The art of this was to not truly say no. Wade didn't want to say no. He didn't want to give the impression that this was against his will in the slightest. Wade bent his knee gently, using his thigh to rub against Peter's clearly straining need. The cold air was snapping at them with each second passing and he could physically see his Alpha shaking. He popped the door in the shower, pushing it back. The outside air was shockingly more warm and Wade moaned quietly, kissing at Peter's mouth. He knew he was playing dirty now but Peter would hopefully be thanking him later.

"Out." He demanded, an alphaic tone in his voice.


End file.
